Like a Phoenix
by Window2MySoul
Summary: ...I know what is like to be dying, to be lifted out of the brink of death. I know what it’s like to think that this time maybe you won’t be so lucky, that this time it’ll be too late...


_It wasn't supposed to end this way…_

It is a sensation I am familiar with, as I'm sure all seasoned warriors are, the sensation of a foreign object being ripped through your body, through your very soul. It's a horrible feeling, but it's nothing compared to the feel of that metal blade being wrenched out of you so brutally. Then you have to deal with the actual wound, most times it is not anything too bad, but there are those times when the damage received is just too much. Those times when you must lie there helplessly, feeling your own warm blood as it gushes in-between your fingers, smelling the coopery tone, and praying that someone will see you, just hoping. That is how I lay now, powerless, while the battle still rages around me. A battle fought like so many others before. As I lay, on soil stained with blood, unable to do anything but keep my heart beating, my thoughts wander aimlessly to the sword wound that was recently received.

_Right through the_ gut, I muse. By my judgment, which is based entirely on the feel of how much blood I am losing at the current, the wound seems to be right up on the top of my list of almost fatal wounds. This doesn't bother me much however; I know what is like to be dying, to be lifted out of the brink of death. I know what it's like to think that this time maybe you won't be so lucky, that this time it'll be too late. It is something that my brother and I are both quite familiar with. Thinking of my brother, I am reminded exactly why I am laying here instead of fighting in battle as I should be. It was a strike intended for my brother. A blow that I took because he was too occupied with three others of the enemy to notice the fourth trying to sneak in from behind, a foolish move on the opponent's part. I will give them this though, it was quite a brilliant plan, by the time I had noticed the opposing soldier, I had but no time to even defend myself. But that is why I am there, and that is how we brothers fight, side to side and back to back. I am only glad that I _was_ there paying attention so I could take the sword for him. Glad that, once again, he is spared of the fiery pain that is consuming me right now. The feeling as your very life seeps out of you; out of the gaping hole that is meant to be lethal. I took notice of my brother yelling my name as I went down, knowing that because I am laying here, my life slowly fading, that my brother is fighting on steadily, clearing way so I can be healed. Even as I lay helplessly on this battlefield of death, I am heartened to know that I am not alone. Yet, for me, in some ways, this is worse than lying there forgotten. Because I know that my brother is right there, dying alongside me. With every excruciating breath I take, I know he can see the agony that has taken over my features; see my fingers, grasping for a way to stop the deadly flow of blood. And I know that he is fighting this vicious enemy to save me, fighting with his very own life. I listen to the clang of metal and the cries of soldiers being struck down. And despite the fact that I know deep within my soul that my brother is so skilled a fighter, my already unstable heart cannot help but give a wretched pull each time I hear a pained cry, worried that without me as a second shield, my oldest sibling will fall.

I am not aware of how much time past, but soon enough I can hear the quiet start to settle, the melancholy silence that follows every battle, when the dead from our army and the enemies' alike are respected. The silence is broken, pierced by the anguished cries of the two siblings that were combating alongside me. I feel my head being shifted, held by my brother lovingly, I can feel the hot tears on my face as they pour down his. I can hear his breathing; it's as labored as mine. Each breath he takes is a mixture of exhaustion and sobs. I faintly make out him ordering a nearby soldier to make haste and summon my youngest sister, to tell her that I am in mortal danger and get her here as quick as possible. I can almost hear my younger sister rushing, running, her small, delicate feet pounding madly against the firm soil on which I lie. By habit I know that the crystal bottle of that sacred, blood red liquid would already be in her firm grasp. That she would be uncorking it as she ran, determined to reach me in time and reverse the process of death itself. I can almost taste the sweet liquid that is the healing power of the cordial of the sun. Almost feel the warmth and numbing heat as the medicine spreads, erasing the pain and curing the wound. She will come, and she will heal me. I've been here many times before, I will heal. My other sister is already here, for I know would know those gentle soothing hands from anywhere. She is stroking my face tenderly, much like the first time I was in such a position. I listen to the words of my two oldest siblings. They are crying, begging for me to stay.

I picture my reason to stay, those three precious faces in my head, worth more to me than all the gold in Narnia. In my minds eye I see my older sister's beautifully pale face, fit for such a caring soul, is marred with tears shed on my behalf. She still looks like an angel however, but angels aren't supposed to cry, _please don't cry_. I can also see the innocence and joy that is my little sister; my brave and valiant little sister. She is so full of life, spirit and hope, that when she laughs so does the world, and when she cries the world cries with her. And my brother, I can see my brother, my other half. Many times have I seen tears on his noble face, and all times, those tears have been shed equal to mine. Do not cry brother, those tears are for naught, many times we have been here before. _Do not be afraid_, I comfort him with unspoken words. But even as I assure my brother silently in my mind, I can feel myself slipping away, consumed by the tug of death, of death knocking on my door. I will not let him in though; I still have much to live for. I must fight this cold angry night; I will not leave my siblings without a fourth. So I fight, fight with all the strength I have left. Yet, I have no strength left. I can already hear the Great Lion, beckoning, summoning.

"Come my child, be not afraid," he says. How could I be afraid? Afraid of that Lion so magnificent and wild, nonetheless so gentle? No, there is never fear when He is around. Even so, my head is still screaming no, stubbornly resisting the pull. However, my heart knows that in the end, I cannot resist the mighty ruler, the King of all Kings. So, I trust, I let myself be washed away by the slowly dieing pain. And it softens, slowly dieing, a fading prickle; it's a bit anesthetic in a way. Death is still knocking, stronger this time, and this time, I let him in. My breaths grows slower, as does my heart…. Then after what seems like eternity, there is darkness. Quiet. Peace….It wasn't supposed to end this way.

**

* * *

****A/N: Phew! As much as I hate character deaths, especially of my favorite, this has been something I've been itching to write. So, during my breaks while studying for finals, I pounded this out. Please tell me what you think…**


End file.
